Control Decay
by Impervious Marr
Summary: Year 2026. There's a crack in China's armour, and all he needs to do is - take down that boy. The unthinkable happens. RussiaAmerica; with guns, weapons, political inaccuracies and action.


When Truman gave the executive order to drop _Y-1852 _over the city of Hiroshima, the unprecedented consequences of America's action took everyone by surprise. What came next was the disgust and horror, rushing in like blood into a numb limb.

To say that America was completely shocked by the extent of the damage was a lie. It was simply, _war._ He expected the burnt mutilation on Japan's back, had expected Soviet Union's change in stance, the stiff upper lips and condemning gazes of the other nations. He had expected the hatred in the Asian country's eyes as he stood stoically opposite of him when the Instrument of Surrender was signed.

However blurred his memory, he remembered Japan's pristine white uniform and shaking hands, fisted to his sides so hard that his skin turned white, and expression impassive as MacArthur and Shigemitsu raised their pens.

After the Supreme Commander, the other representatives of the Allied Powers took their turns to acknowledge the surrender with their own signatures. United States was first, Soviet was fourth, and New Zealand was last.

There was no cheer when the deed was done.

And when Japan nodded and turned to walk away, America saw that there was force in the way he walked, as if he refused to let the world witness him limp. He saw Japan holding his head straight ahead - neither of high pride, or low defeat.

He saw the blood that seeped onto the fabric of Japan's _pristine white_ jacket, staining his back crimson red.

x

x

_**Control Decay**_

x

x

_Near ground zero, everything flammable burst into flame, glass products and sand melted into molten glass_

_and any humans were either vaporized, or turned into carbon_

_in an instant_

x

_**2026**_

x

x

Russia stared at his friend - could it even be called that, even now? - his face barely masking the disbelief he felt over the proposal laid out on the table in front of him, and at the words echoing in his mind from their previous discussions. China, on the other hand, looked expectant as he continued with his explanation, voice filled with confidence that he disturbingly had, confidence his planning would _work_.

"I have already gathered allies. The ones around me, I have, ah, made sure of their commitment. All that is left is for you to join."

"How long have you been…"

"That does not matter."

That means that it has been a long while now. Russia looked down at the papers, buying time to sort out the mess in front of him as he laced his fingers together. Military plans, where to strike, where to hurt marked by horrible **x**'s where China wanted to strike marring the map of a certain North American country.

His voice was heavy. "I am to be understanding… You wish to wage war against _Amerika._"

"It is not a wish. I will do it," he said dismissively, voice gaining an edge as it was tainted with impatience. "What do you think?"

It was only courtesy. Ivan was perfectly aware that China _thought _he knew what Ivan thought.

How could he have not noticed his neighbour's descent into the poisonous snake pit of insanity? That was what it was. Pure insanity, and suicide.

"My answer - _no."_

There was a split second of silence, before China broke it with a mocking laugh.

"What was that you said? _**What**__?_"China's voice was sharp as he stood, the silver on his ear glinting and adding an edge to his stance. The suit he wore was pressed to perfection, crinkling where he tensed in anticipation of a fight. "You want to play games with me? You think this is a joke? I want a serious answer."

"Far from it. And I am perfectly serious." Russia withdrew his hands from the papers. "What do you want to benefit from this? You already have extensive economic influence. I am seeing no gain other than the known horrors of war and what it entails. Have you gotten too comfortable that you are so foolish to assume you will pull through this with no more than a scratch?"

"_You _are the foolish one. Do you not see? _No, _you do _not! _My economy is the biggest of all in the world. I am more than capable of winning. And I am more capable of handling injuries - more than all of you who are like _dirt_ under my shoe. Everyone will _see."_

Russia was silent.

"All I have to do is get rid of that _boy._"

It was said so plainly… But it wasn't that easy. Russia knew this, and he knew China knew this. But to even… _Suggest _such a thing… To _plan _it…

"Yao, you are a dear friend of mine… But I cannot sit back and let you do this. No one will support you -"

"You _shut up!_ I have told you already I have allies! I know what role you will play and you will not sit back." China paused, as if pondering what course of action to take, but it was an exercise in appearances. He knew what he wanted ever since he entered the room and faced Russia. He would go through with it, with or without the Eurasian country. He has always been alone to fend for himself against others. How could he not? He was stuck in between India, Russia, Japan. All decently strong, and all some way or another, connected to that American boy across the Pacific.

It was only natural that his paranoia grew, for him to have leaders which spoke of domination to protect _China's interests_.

His paranoia grew in folds as his economists and academics told him he was in decline. What if the others knew? What if they already knew, and planned to bring him under their control again as they have so often when he was vulnerable? It was all the worse with the constant, dull pain in his body that spoke of regional competition, unrest, and conflict. His own central government was already struggling to hold on.

Though he would never admit such a thing, China was breaking apart. Then he knew that he had to - _needed _- to strike first.

So what better way to distract his dissidents with a war? A war where he was certain to win, as the ones with the ability to strike have already reduced the size of their armaments so small that it was negligible against his own arsenal. If they shot him back, he would only need to shoot those missiles down.

He had enough intelligence, technology, resources - to know what to do.

Now it was up to Russia to decide; the only one he decided to give enough courtesy to make a choice of his own.

"You will not sit back," China repeated, eyes unforgiving in the low light. "You will either join me in this cause, or you will fall just like that boy will."

_You are either with me, or against me._

Russia's gaze was equally hard as he conveyed his stance in the matter; immovable. The same kind of insane hatred that filled China was like looking into a mirror a century ago. He would not go down that path again.

"I will not." The only change in China's demeanor at Russia's answer was the way the skin over his knuckles turned white. "I only know pain down that path. Even you - you are getting too paranoid over this -"

"Me? Too _paranoid?_ You say that as if I do not have a right to be concerned about my security. I am talking about my _security, _Braginski! India especially is already -_" _He refused to say 'surpassing me', because that was a show of weakness. "- you know how she is. And with improving relations between her and that boy? I will not simply sit by."

"No one is going to attack you, don't you understand? You are exaggerating small incidences to feed your anxiety and reason with yourself that this is the best possible course to take." Russia stood up, unwilling to be in the same room anymore. "_Listen _to reason. This effort is futile and will bring nothing but pain to either side. Not only that, it is suicide. You are willing to sacrifice your children for this madness?"

"If it means protecting more of them, then yes. You have become soft."

"You have become insane."

The simplicity of the statement contrasted with the complexities of its meaning, and China flinched back impulsively, baring his teeth. "You have no _right _to assume such things about me when you yourself are not all that _right._"

"And you have no right as well to dictate my actions or force me to join. Why you even want to attack America in the first place escapes my comprehension. He has done nothing -"

The strength behind the backhand which whipped across Ivan's face took the Eurasian nation completely by surprise.

What was jarring though, was that China looked as stunned as Russia was at his own loss of composure.

"… I will take my leave. My final answer is no." Russia started to walk away, _away_ from the madman seething at him in the same room, away from this madness to - _warn _America about the impending danger, because it was the least he could do. He wished no harm to come down upon the North American, because he did not want to see his own children harmed. There was a flash, inside his mind, of what it would be like if China succeeded. Chaos and pain which knew no boundaries.

Russia withdrew his phone when he was safely in the hallway, rushing to dial the only number in his phone which mattered. There was only one ring, before the line cleared and -

"_Russia, I swear to God I will kill you. I will __**kill you**__._"

The response to his call made Ivan still. _Yao could not -_

_He could not have already -_

He swore.

"No, please, _Amerika, _it is not _me. Listen _to me; you need to be listening, p -" Russia quickened his steps, sick in his mind and sick in his stomach as he tried to get away, suddenly hyperaware of what horrors _nuclear _entailed. _China has already made the first move._ "_- pozhaluysta_."

And behind him, he failed to notice China's light, silent steps, and the handgun emerging from inside his jacket.

"Yao. He is - I do not know what is wrong with him but he is planning to -"

The only warning was the click of the weapon before there was a sudden

_**BANG**_

_and Russia was -_

"_Russia? Russia!"_

_**BANG**_

- lurching forward, coughing blood, and -

_- falling_

x

x

_**two hours earlier.**_

x

x

If America had any idea of what would transpire in the next two hours, he would've paid more attention to the trees dotting the scenery, beautiful variations of green contrasting with their flowers, combining to create such a beautiful harmony. He would commit the sight of his monuments against the background of perpetual peace to his memory forever. The blue sky seemed to be endless, reflecting his own eyes - and it would be a long time until it would do so again. The children, his people; the careless smiles on their faces.

If he had any idea that it wouldn't be the norm anymore, he would have paused.

If he _knew_ -

"What's the situation?"

- he wouldn't be buried in papers, wondering what China's intentions were, surrounded by political elites, defense analysts and policy makers. The President was busy discussing with the Secretary of Defense about possible actions to take against the gradual isolationism adopted by China recently - at least, the recent policy of making limited contact with the United States. It didn't sit well with any of them ever since it began a month ago. The other staff were going about their work as usual, passing papers, typing reports, looking for any sign of change in any of the monitors in front of them.

"The satellites?"

"We can't get in close, China's watching too closely. And we can't risk antagonizing them with spy planes, we aren't sure of their technology and how advanced it is…" The man seemed to pause, acknowledging that underestimating them would be a fault in itself. He continued looking over his reports. "There's been talk of unrest, but the government has such a tight control over the media, it's hard to even gauge how extensive it is."

"Isn't there _any possible way _we can get in close?"

"Without sparking a diplomatic crisis, no."

"The neighboring states?"

"Is as usual. There's just nothing of note, other than the information we already have. The only blank spot is China. They're just dead-set against us finding out about anything, sir."

The President's expression was grim, hardly reassuring for the rest of the team as they tried to keep their minds off what may possibly provoke China to take such a stance. It signaled an abrupt halt to their slowly thawing relations. High-level talks in March have already discussed increased economic cooperation and a willingness to settle the matter in a future meeting.

It was already May. America hated being in the dark, especially when it involved one of his greatest economic rivals. It brought up fears of having two power blocs again, reflexive diplomatic maneuvering, memories of establishing spheres of influence and a chilled standoff between the two great adversaries. He didn't exactly had the desire for it to happen once more.

America sighed quietly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He already gave up on stroking gently; instead pressing on his face with a kind of undue force seen only in frustration.

"I'm taking a break, sir," he called out respectfully, but leaving no room for argument. He stood up when the President nodded his consent, stepping out of the room with a strange, almost-but-not-quite _dragging_ walk.

There were a few smiles exchanged when he ambled his way to the coffee machine, hands shaking slightly when they came up to press the buttons to administer himself a dose of that hot, bitter liquid. The beverage was more of a comfort than anything, something constant in a sea of ever changing circumstances. He drank it without much celebration.

He felt tired.

Recently, Europe has been in disarray with an increasing problem of a declining population on top of the volatile Euro, wreaking havoc and bringing up unrest in parts of Germany, Turkey and Poland who found themselves more often than not as the ones who had to bail out the others. Russia was becoming an increasingly sought-after beneficiary to pump in capital into the region, gaining more ground especially with their wealth of natural resources.

If he felt like being optimistic, America thought about their relations, which warmed considerably once he reasoned with himself that his and Ivan's objectives didn't naturally overlap. They went their separate ways, forgoing close partnership in order to concentrate in their own affairs. He stopped expecting too much from Moscow. It paid off with limited but worthwhile progress, more than he could ever achieve if he continued with his counter-productive overreactions a decade ago.

Still.

It was nothing compared to the partnership of Russia and China, which left a bitter taste in his mouth more often than he would like. He heard about their quarrels but it was very few and far in between, hardly anything worthy of note, and it was -

- _fuck._

America downed the rest of the scalding liquid down his throat, sputtering and coughing at the sensation but otherwise, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Their decreasing share in the EU's exports have made them turn towards Latin America for new markets, and his relations with the international community have been more accommodating and diplomatic, with more cooperation between everyone. It was a relatively quiet decade.

It wasn't much consolation against his relative decline in economic and military power, coupled with domestic restraints on his global leadership. In the recent years of G-20, he felt content to simply sit back and concentrate his resources into improving his own infrastructure. The superpower acknowledged he was overstretched. Now he wanted to enjoy the relative peace.

There was an underlying apprehension that he was being too lax, but he had to address more pressing concerns. His defense spending was cut down to size, saving hundreds of billions of dollars, his economy was stabilizing, and there was nothing much to do other than to watch the others grow and discover new technologies. Forays into space exploration has kept America placid; excited for the future.

_Maybe, if I try hard enough…_

_Maybe we could work together again -_

Irrational, wishful thinking.

He washed the mug in the nearby sink, clinking with the other plates when he put it up to dry. He should be heading back.

x

x

x

"Any updates?" America asked flippantly, though there wasn't any sense of urgency to his voice, as if he already knew the answer. He rolled up his sleeves, pushing more reports on the wide table away from where he planned to lay down his head for a quick rest.

The Secretary of Defense eyed him critically, but was long used to Mr. Jones' quirks. The President, on the other hand, chuckled good-humoredly in response. "There's -"

"Sir! _**Mr. President!**_ "

There was a loud crash from the hallway. Alarmed at the urgency and the _panic _saturating the voice, America pushed himself off the table, tensing.

"What is it?"

"It's General White."

"Put her on the screen."

Twenty seconds passed with nothing more than a muted silenced shared by the three men in the middle of the room, while all around them was almost like a hurricane. Then the large screen nearby flickered to show a severe-looking, middle aged woman, the formidable Commander of the USSTRATCOM, who looked entirely grim to be put on the emergency line as the rest were about the situation.

It took only a few words from her -

_"Mr. President. There's something in the airspace. The satellites picked up a missile launch that came from __**Russia**__."_

- to launch everything into turmoil.

America jumped to his feet, exhaustion completely forgotten amid the calamity which gripped the room. "_What?"_

_"It's an ICBM about the size of the Minuteman. We can't determine for now where it's coming from exactly, but it's approximately 700 miles east of Moscow. It's flying over the Volga and crossing over Europe as we speak."_

"Where… Where is it headed? Is it aiming any of the NATO states?"

_"With that kind of speed and velocity, it's unlikely they're targeting any of those states, unless… Unless if you're counting us."_

In that moment, America felt something grip his heart.

"W… What…?" he asked weakly, unable to think.

His President was wrapped in a facade of calmness as he took over the questioning and processed the information, but it contrasted with the way he leaned heavily against the table, steadying himself. "Are - are you sure about this?"

_"I… I wish I was lying, sir."_ Her voice was filled with dread, a rare show of emotion and the kind of fear America has only witnessed very few times - the kind of fear she wouldn't be able to see her loved ones again from that moment forth, wiped off instantly from the face of the Earth. She looked like she wanted to ask one question, teetering on the tip of the tongues of all personnels in the room.

_"… Sir?"_

The Head of State seemed to deliberate, sweeping his eyes across the room, taking in all the pale faces, disbelief seeping into their systems - and with a rush, what came into mind were the hundreds of millions of citizens in his beloved, beautiful country.

His wife, his sons and his daughters.

He answered with a question. "How long do we have?"

"_We haven't estimated yet the-_"

"Give me a pen." America ruthlessly shoved his inhibitions away, mind coming back to the present situation. He gritted his teeth as he calculated, mind going on overdrive as he pulled up equations for ballistic trajectories almost subconsciously. "If it's already above Eastern Europe - probably an hour and a half. More likely less if Ivan stepped up the propulsion systems."

"God save us," the Secretary murmured weakly, but with more force afterwards. "Are the GMDs on higher alert than they should be already?"

_"It's being done."_

The President motioned to one of the staff. "Anyway to contact Russia? How about our embassy in Moscow?"

"Nothing, sir. It's like our communications are blocked."

"Can someone _please _give me at least some good news?" the Defense Secretary snapped, holding his head in a rare display of losing his composure.

_"Mr. President?"_

"White. You've been briefed on all the possible ways to respond to such an attack. Even if it still originated from Russia, we can't be too sure if it is the government, or a terrorist group hellbent on causing a nuclear war. We aren't even sure if it's _Russian_ at all."

_"I agree. And there is only one missile launched, which might be simply a… Precursor of what is to come. For now, we should focus on interception ASAP. To the best of my knowledge the sooner the better, then we can minimize damage._"

"While it's still flying over Europe?" one of the staff murmured, one of the few who weren't hyperventilating.

_"Yes. There's still time for Israel to use the Arrow system."_

America hesitated. "We can't do that without letting the fallout hit the region. Even if it doesn't explode, the debris has a chance falling into somewhere we don't want it to," he admitted.

_"Never mind that. Once the booster falls off it's going to be goddamned difficult to detect that thing until reentry. Where's that going to leave us, boy?"_

"You think I don't know that!" America shouted, slamming his hands on the table, causing cracks to appear. "What good is it if somebody else takes the hit for us? What the hell is that gonna say about us?" He ignored the calls coming from his boss for him to calm down. "Shoot it when it's over the Atlantic instead!"

"I have to agree with Jones, General. That's walking into a diplomatic disaster." The General visibly scowled, but said nothing to further her argument. They were all stressed. "Where is it targeted?"

_"Our radars only extend two-thirds across the Atlantic, we won't know for sure where it's targeted at until it comes into the range. I've put the rest on severe risk alert. Likely targets are Washington, D.C and New York."_

"Then keep the line open. All we can wait for now is to wait."

"_Sir."_

America paced, letting the nervous habit overtake his senses as he tried to just - _think._

_But I can't. None of this makes any fucking __**sense.**_

God damn it.

The next few minutes stretched into a few decades, the capability to process information faster than ever, giving the illusion of everything slowing down into an unbearable pace. His Armed Forces were put on alert, the GMDs prepared to intercept, battleships maneuvering into position and missile defenses ready to launch at a moment's notice. Adrenaline was dictating his actions.

_God damn it. _

"Mr. President, there's an incoming emergency transmission from USS Gerald R. Ford."

There was another flicker, and an unfamiliar male was on the screen, but America instinctively knew it was the Captain who worked on board the supercarrier. He saluted instinctively at the sight of both the Secretary and the President. What was wrong though, is that the man looked pale and clammy, as if unwilling to believe what has transpired.

"_Mr. President. Mr. Robinson."_

"What is it, Captain?"

"_The - the radar systems are malfunctioning. ICBMs seem to be - they're coming from everywhere. Ghost blips in the screen where they shouldn't be - none of my specialists can tell where they're coming from -" _He took a breath, but it was obvious he was struggling. "_It's overriding our systems but we're working on to solve it -"_

The shock barely settled in his system when another voice interrupted.

"Another transmission from the Captain of USS Enterprise II!"

"- _Sir! Our radar systems are overrun! It's as if they know our signal -"_

It was like a wave of no mercy over and over again, as there were more reports of his detection systems being hacked into, being overrun, being played with as if it was a mere toy. Where to aim his missile defenses? Where to look? Where are they _coming from_?

While all this deception hung in the air, there was still the threat of a very real, very dangerous ballistic missile headed their way.

"Soldier, this is a _do or die _situation. Get it _**fixed!**_"

For the first time in a long time, America felt truly exposed, and he felt an inkling of pure terror.

Then, a break - the simple vibration of a device in his pocket, a faint ringing, unnoticeable to everyone in the room except for himself. America withdrew it from his pocket, only glancing at the name once before he gripped it so tight the plastic cracked.

His disbelief for the situation turned into raging hot anger in his veins.

"_Russia!_" he answered, snarling and almost in hysterics - so angry, posed to strike so hard, gears turning in his mind so fast he felt almost suffocated. "Russia, I _swear to God _I will kill you. _I will __**kill you**__._"

There was a swear and an oath, a _plea _which followed moments after.

"_No -"_

_How could he?_

_"- please-"_

_H-How __**could he?**_

_"- Amerika, it is not me,_" Russia whispered harshly, accent smothered over his words so thick, and America hasn't heard him whisper that desperately ever since the _Karibskiy Krizis - _the missiles in Cuba. America's previous, stifling rage muted for a moment, derailed by the Eurasian's silent, unspoken hysteria.

America held his breath, and he didn't know what to believe in anymore.

"_Listen_ to me. You _need to be listening, p-pozhaluy__**sta**__ -"_

There was a slight undercurrent of _terror_ in the break of Russia's voice that made America's heart stop.

"- _Yao. He is - I do not know what is wrong with him but he is planning to_ -"

_China?_

Then there was the chilling sound of a gunshot - the sound of an involuntary gasp - the sound of the phone falling onto marble, the clattering a sharp syllable in his ears.

"Russia?" he asked, lacking strength in his voice, almost fearful. "_Russia!_"

Another gunshot, and the sort of silence associated with absolute dread. The noise around America seemed to dull as he listened for any sign of movement, the hold on his phone unrelenting, the _clack, clack, clack _of heeled shoes making their way ever closer.

There was a rustle, and a pause, and an almost unrecognizable voice afterwards.

"_Goodbye."_

_x_

_x_

_x_

_x_

A/N: Hello, yes it is me again! I bet you're feeling sick of me now!

De-anon from the kinkmeme. The prompt was both R/A getting nuked by some Nation X and kicking some major ass later by teaming up. One of the options was an alien nation, and I didn't wanna do that, since someone else is doing it awesomely. So we get China instead! (Views expressed in the fic aren't necessarily mine okok. Chinese people are awesome generally.)

Hopefully I can suspend your disbelief a little more longer loool. These are some of the acronyms and terms which might not make sense. For any readers who are involved in the Armed Forces, I'm seriously sorry for any weirdness and inaccuracies (I'm not American, but still doesn't give me an excuse…). These are just little notes in case if you (like me) don't really know what's with all those fancy-looking terms. If anything is unclear, feel free to ask!

Y-1852 - Little Boy

Minuteman - Codename for US's own ICBMs.

Arrow system - Missile defense system located in Israel.

ICBM - intercontinental ballistic missiles

USSTRATCOM - United States Strategic Command

GMD - Ground-Based Midcourse Defense


End file.
